


the santa claus: peter parker edition

by hailingstars



Series: simply having a wonderful christmas time [5]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Drunk Peter Parker, F/M, Gen, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Menace, Peter Parker is a Mess, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Underage Drinking, flash thompson is a good bro, have yourself a hailing and frosty christmas, kind of, the fos gang up to mischief, the fos gang vs J Jameson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:33:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28060968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailingstars/pseuds/hailingstars
Summary: “Okay,” says Peter. “Sooo… what are we doing?”“We’re going to pay J. Jameson a visit at his house.”“What?” asks Peter. He laughs and takes a sip of the eggnog. “Wait, you’re being serious? I don’t care how much you know about successful murders, we can’t kill anyone.”MJ smiles and slips her phone into her pocket. “Not murder. Just a harmless prank.”ORThe FOS tries to cheer Peter up with a night of pranking, where, as usual, things don't go as planned, this time thanks to Peter being under the influence.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Flash Thompson, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: simply having a wonderful christmas time [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041610
Comments: 34
Kudos: 202





	the santa claus: peter parker edition

**Author's Note:**

> happy Sunday!! please enjoy!!

Peter doesn’t know the song pumping through the speakers, but he likes it anyway, because it’s from a playlist curated by MJ and she has excellent taste. Flash tries to tap a pair of chopsticks to the beat, and Ned and MJ watch a video on her phone, leaving Peter to pillage through the Thompson’s fridge unbothered. 

It’s sort of weird, he thinks, that they’re all hanging out together, and even more weird, that they’re all having a good time hanging out together. 

“Dude,” says Flash. He stops drumming the chopsticks, and Peter silently rejoices. He’s always just a bit off beat. “You’re always hungry.” 

“I keep forgetting how new you are,” says MJ, not moving her eyes from her phone. 

“Yeah,” says Ned. “Being a fos means always keeping a snack on you so Peter doesn’t pass out from his superpowered metabolism. We’re like soccer moms, except cooler and in more danger.” 

“Have you seen kids when they’re hungry?” asks Flash. “They’re scary! My money’s on the soccer moms.” 

Peter snatches a carton of eggnog and decides that will have to do. It’s festive, he’s thirsty, and Flash’s nearly empty fridge suggests that their personal chef is already on his Christmas vacation.

“So, what’s the plan?” Peter asks. He puts the eggnog carton on the counter and grabs a glass from the cabinet, his back turned to the group. “You said you got us tickets to that show, right, Ned?” 

He’s under strict orders from both Mr. Stark and May to, in their words, go get into mischief like a normal teenager. Spidey mischief is out of the equation according to their mandate, so Peter figures eggnog laced with some alcohol and a concert is something a normal teen would do to celebrate school ending for the semester. 

He fills the glass with eggnog, but when he doesn’t get an immediate answer, he turns around and finds his friends and his girlfriend staring at him. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Well,” says Ned. “I did _almost_ get the tickets, but then MJ said something else might be more fun, so...

“Okay,” says Peter. “Sooo… what are we doing?” 

“We’re going to pay J. Jameson a visit at his house.” 

“What?” asks Peter. He laughs and takes a sip of the eggnog. “Wait, you’re being serious? I don’t care how much you know about successful murders, we can’t kill anyone.” 

MJ smiles and slips her phone into her pocket. “Not murder. Just a harmless prank.”

“Like?” 

“Like eggs and toilet paper,” says Flash. “A classic.” 

“You guys want to spend the evening egging and tping Jameson’s house?” 

As it turns out, that’s exactly what they want to do. Ned explains he spent the evening before tracking down Jameson’s home address, MJ states she’s bought the eggs and the toilet paper, and Flash goes on and on about how he’s the best getaway driver. 

“Can’t let him get away with dragging Spidey’s good name through the mud,” says Flash. 

“Yeah, only I’m allowed to make fun of you,” says MJ. There’s a short, almost awkward pause before she adds, “Out of love.” 

Peter blinks, and the moment slips away as quickly as it had arrived. 

“And it’s not like he’s just telling jokes,” says Ned. “The stuff he puts out is straight up slander, and we can tell it bothers you. You pretend it doesn’t, but it does.” 

Peter isn’t about to argue that point. He doesn’t like to make a fuss about J. Jameson or his shitty TV program, doesn’t like to focus on it or give it attention, but sometimes it’s too loud to ignore. 

All Peter wants to do is help people, and it’s a stab right through his heart to have someone on the air, constantly accusing him of the opposite. Still, it’s nice to know at least the fos will always have his back. 

“It’ll be fun,” says Flash, “You can finally become the menace he and his rabid followers say you are.”

“And you _need this_ ,” says MJ. “You need something immature and fun.” 

“Yeah,” says Peter, nodding his head. He did need it, and he finds, with friends like these, he doesn’t need much more convincing, even if he’s wondering if something like this could get them all arrested. “Okay, I’m in.” 

The three of them celebrate, and it’s so ridiculous Peter laughs before draining the rest of the eggnog and putting the empty glass back on the counter. 

“If you have a super freaky metabolism,” says Flash. “How much eggnog do you think it’ll take before you’re, you know, falling over?” 

“I dunno,” says Peter. “A lot, maybe? I feel normal now.” 

Since they are scientists, and since Peter is under strict orders to find some mischief, he starts drinking from the carton, with every intention of finding out how much eggnog it takes to make a spider drunk. 

*

Once it gets dark, and after Peter’s guzzled down two and a half cartons of eggnog, they head out to the car. He stumbles on the way and begins to worry their experiment wasn’t such a great idea, but MJ grabs a hold of his arm and saves him from tripping into a bush and by the time he’s in the backseat of Flash’s car sitting next to her, he forgets the worry. 

“Alrrighhttt,” shouts Flash. He cranks the volume up on the radio, and drums his thumbs against the wheel. “Time for the debut of Blaze, the amazzzingly handsome getaway driver.” 

“Flash,” says Ned, from up in the passenger’s side seat. “Stop trying to make Blaze happen. It’s never going to happen.” 

“Yeah,” says MJ. “Just because Tony Stark said it doesn’t make it cool.” 

Flash gasps, loud and dramatic, as he pulls the car from the driveway. He makes eye contact with Peter in the rearview mirror. “You hearing this?” 

“Got a point, actually,” says Peter. “He’s kind of a dork. Just gotta hear him sing in the shower once to realize.” 

“I swear, Parker,” says Flash, shaking his head. “Do you even know who these people are that you hang out with?” Flash keeps going, doesn’t even give Peter a chance to respond. “Tony Stark! And Colonel Rhodes! You don’t know how lucky you are.” 

“Sure, man,” agrees Peter, hoping it’ll get him to shut up. His hand finds MJ’s on the car seat, and they link fingers. It’s a small reprieve from his head growing dizzy, watching blurry street lights swish by the windows.

“Even your aunt is cool. Pretty fun to shop with.” 

“You went shopping with Aunt May?” asks MJ. 

“Yep,” says Flash. “And Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes. They wanted to make sure I was coming to the Christmas party.” 

“Don’t ask,” Peter mutters to MJ, not wanting to relive the day of Bucky’s great betrayal. 

The drive to the Jameson estate goes by quickly, and Peter can’t tell if it’s because of the alcohol in his system, or if because all rich people live close together. 

Flash brings the car to stop by the entrance of a winding driveway that leads to a home that’s more of a mansion than a house. One that’s decorated from top to bottom with Christmas lights. In the yard, by one of the large windows on the ground floor, a giant inflatable Santa stands guard. 

“Nice to know Jameson’s gotten rich by selling rumors to the public about Spider-Man,” says MJ. 

“To be fair,” says Ned. “I think he was selling rumors before Peter became the subject.” 

“Not really making me feel better, Ned,” says Peter. 

Seeing the house of his enemy sinks Peter’s spirit in a way he could have not predicted, making him realize, maybe for the first time, just how affected he’s been by the constant flow of critical commentary from J. Jameson. His dampened mood, Mr. Stark and May’s nagging him to do something fun, all clicks together, even in his hazy mind. 

And it makes him even more determined to carry out this prank. As immature as it may be, it’s something, and Peter’s ready to give an outlet to his frustration at always being painted in a negative light. 

It’s just too bad his limbs and his brain aren’t really connecting well at the moment, and Flash has to help him out of the car after he nearly faceplants on the concrete. 

“Guess we figured out how many cartons of eggnog gets Spidey drunk,” says Flash, letting go of Peter, only after he managed to regain some balance. 

“It’s okay,” says Peter, still wobbling. “Uh, I’m okay.” 

Not one of them looks like they believe him, but Ned hands him a carton of eggs and MJ hands him a roll of toilet paper, and the four of them march up to the mansion built from lies, armed and ready to wage their revenge. 

*

It’s MJ who throws the first egg, and it’s Flash and Ned who torpedo rolls of toilet paper through the largest tree on Jameson’s property. 

Peter tries. He stumbles. He throws some toilet paper at the house and the roll bounces off and lands in the bushes. 

MJ pats him on the shoulder. “Why don’t you just stand here and look pretty?” 

Peter frowns, though he thinks standing still, or even better, sitting down, sounds like a fantastic idea. Walking is hard, throwing things is even harder, and yet, as Peter lifts his face and sees the top of the house, flashing with lights, he gets a spectacular idea. 

What kind of spider needs walking and throwing when they can climb? Peter flounders towards the Jameson house. Once he gets there, he uses one hand to grip the bricks at its base and another to hold the toilet paper, and begins climbing up the house. 

“Peter!” MJ whisper-yells. “What are you doing? Get down!” 

Peter isn’t sure. Seemed like a good idea from the bottom, but now he’s up on the roof, he doesn’t know what to do with the toilet paper. He looks down at MJ, which turns out to be a huge mistake. 

Suddenly there’s nothing beneath him. His arms and hands flail, reaching for something, anything, to save him from falling, when he grabs a hold of a string of lights. They rip from the house under the weight of his body, fall with him, and all Peter knows is a swirl of colors before he hits the ground with a thud. 

“Peter!”

Peter blinks, groans, and tries standing, except he’s somehow twisted the string of flickering red lights around his legs. His attempt to stand leaves him plummeting into the giant inflatable Santa. 

He thinks he’s lucky. 

He thinks it’s a good thing that there’s a jolly inflatable to save him from meeting the hard ground a second time, but he’s Peter Parker and he’s remarkably unlucky. He falls straight through the Santa inflatable, popping it, leaving only a thin layer of plastic between him and the earth. 

“Peter! Holy shit!” 

There’s the sound of running, then Flash stands over him, looking down with a creased forehead. 

“Are you okay, man?” 

Peter blinks. “Does this mean I’m Santa now?” 

“What?” 

“You know, you kill Santa, you have to take his place and all that?” 

“Well,” says MJ. “He’s still making movie references, the damage can’t be that bad.” 

Peter runs his hands over his face, checking for any sign of hair growth. He’s way too young to grow a fluffy, white beard. He’s way too young to abandon his life to move to the South Pole, although he thinks he’d like playing with the reindeer.

“We should probably get him home.” 

“Yeah, good idea.” 

His friends help him untangle from the Christmas lights, Ned helps him to his feet and doesn’t let him go until he pushes him into the backseat of Flash’s car, where he sits next to MJ. 

When they drive away from the Jameson estate, it looks nothing like it had when they had found it. Strands of lights are missing, Santa has been defeated, there’re eggs splattered on every window and door, and there’s not a tree spared from the tping. 

It’s a job well done, and Peter feels great about it, until he doesn’t, until the fantastic sight of the ruined Jameson mansion is well behind him and he’s just dizzy and nauseous and undeniably sore from his falls. 

“I don’t… I don’t feel so good,” says Peter. 

“Parker… I swear to Thor almighty if you puke in my car you’re walking back to Queens.” 

“Might wanna pull over then, Flash,” says MJ. 

The car comes to an abrupt stop, MJ swings the door open, and Peter leans across her lap to stick his head out the door and throw up in the ditch. MJ runs her fingers through his hair until he’s upright again, wiping his mouth off with his sleeve and staring at her, forgetting about the nauseous feeling still floating around in his belly and the pounding behind his eyes. 

“I love you.”

Peter thinks she might say it back, but she’s interrupted by Flash, who always seems to have the absolute worst timing. 

“Please tell me you didn’t just say I love you for the first after puking your guts out.” 

“Actually,” says MJ. “This is pretty on brand for our relationship.” 

*

By Peter’s request, he’s the last one to be dropped off, and also by his request, Flash doesn’t take him to Queens. 

He parks the car outside of Avengers Tower and helps him into the lobby, where Mr. Stark is waiting for them. 

“This,” says Mr. Stark, lifting Peter’s chin with his hand and looking into his eyes. “Is definitely _not_ what May and I meant when we said to go get into trouble.” 

“Um,” says Flash, “What did you mean, then?”

“Definitely not drinking his weight in… what was it?” Mr. Stark looks at Peter for an answer, but it’s Flash who provides one. 

“Eggnog, sir, we’re scientists, you know, Midtown and all. We had to see how much alcohol gets a spider drunk.” 

Mr. Stark stares at him, before shaking his head. “Well, Blaze, thanks for getting him home.” 

“Stop tryin’ to make Blaze happen, Mr. Stark,” mutters Peter, as Flash says goodbye and leaves them in the lobby. 

Mr. Stark drags him into the elevator, and it’s all very disorientating. Peter’s relieved when the floor stops moving and he’s guided over to the couch in the living room. 

“Alright, Mr. Scientist,” says Mr. Stark. “Let’s get you some water, and some super aspirin for the morning.” 

Peter’s grinning by the time Mr. Stark’s pressing a cold bottle of water into his hands. “We wrecked Jameson’s house tonight.”

“Really?” asks Mr. Stark. He looked equally amused and impressed. “Good for you.” 

“It was so _awesome_ ,” says Peter. “Besides all the puking… and falling off the roof.” 

“So, you had fun tonight?” 

“Yeah, just not right now. My head’s still all weird and fuzzy.” 

Mr. Stark barks out a laugh, ruffles his hair, and orders him to drink the water. Nags him, really, and threatens to not dim the lights or give him a blanket until it’s half gone.

Peter, begrudgingly, eventually does gulp down the water, and earns a blanket from the linen closet. 

“Sleep tight, Pete,” says Mr. Stark, fluffing out the blanket and letting it fall over Peter, who’s comfy and stretched out of the couch. “Glad you got some petty vengeance on that old grifter.” 

“Mr. Stark,” says Peter, remembering his crime. “Don’t be surprised if I wake up with a really big beard tomorrow.”

“You? Facial hair? Keep dreamin’.”

“I killed Santa.” 

Mr. Stark pauses, opens his mouth to speak, but then shakes his head again. “You know, I don’t really need to know. Goodnight, kid.” 

“Goodnight.” 

He closes his eyes, and starts to drift off and he’s almost there when his phone rumbles, jolting him back awake. He pulls his phone from his pocket and a text from MJ lights the screen. 

_I love you, too, loser_

His heart gets flippy, and he lets his head fall back down against the throw pillow. He closes his eyes, and this time, when he successfully drifts off to sleep, it’s with the biggest, goofiest grin, because MJ's got excellent taste. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! and thanks to frostysunflowers for being the absolute best cowriter and also helping a ton with writing this fic!!!! <3 
> 
> comments and/or kudos let me know what you think!!!


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